


devolving

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Character Death, I honestly don't feel like this is angsty but I honestly don't really know., M/M, Stupid men in love, and then not., canonverse, like how to gauge it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He'd responded, nine out of ten times. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	devolving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorrydearie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrydearie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [travelling by ambulance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667269) by [sorrydearie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrydearie/pseuds/sorrydearie). 



> Okay, so. This is my first time literally ever writing in second person so I'm actually pretty terrified of how this turned out. I'm really terrible at deciding whether or not I like what I've written. 
> 
> Also, this was not really inspired by the piece I have linked in the related work part, so much as that the writing style of the author made me want to attempt my writing style with second person. I dunno if that makes any sense. But it's really rad, and you should read it because yes.
> 
> Third, I'm gifting this to sorrydearie because their writing is badass and managed to hit me right in the gut. Plus, they always say nice stuff about my shit. (Writing.) so that's a bonus. 
> 
> Okay, I'm going to stop before this note becomes longer than the thing.

The hand against your face is sandpaper—rough, like the instance when his worn leather boot made contact with your aching skull. All of this in an attempt to caress your cheek—with your eyes stinging, blood burning—no longer sure if it's the situation, or the breaking down of the world around you threatening to crack and demolish the dam built up in bright green eyes, like an overwhelming cloudburst with no end. 

You're not currently sure where his fingertips end and the skin of your cheek begins, or where the blood is stemming from—like the upward flow of a poisonous flower. 

He exhales, and his breath shakes. You had supposed it would always come to this—one of you, dying while the other can do nothing—but had hoped that you would be the one lying in a pool of your own blood while grey eyes looked down on you. You know that this was not the destined fate of Humanity's Strongest, despite his murmured reassurances that continue to pass his thin lips. Though you've _told him to be quiet because he needs to focus on breathing and—_

He gasps, but this time it is not from the feeling of your teeth scraping against his scarred skin, like damaged porcelain—not from your hand, moving _painstakingly slow_ along the spaces of his inner thighs, before you finally take pity on him, hand meeting hardened flesh. 

No, it is not from those memories.

It is pain, and it is death. 

The screams around you continue, as more men and women become martyrs for a cause that has never seemed completely lost to you till now. They fight to die, but for once—you cannot find it within yourself to care as his face drenches in sweat, and the storm of grey begins to cover with the glassy sheen of a lake with no crosswind. 

You know—and he must as well—that this is pointless. There is _so much blood around him and you don't want to believe it and—_

'Don't cry, Eren.'

_What?_

'I'll be okay.'

_You don't want him to lie to you like this, don't want him to tell you it's okay when—_

'Please don't—' his voice cracks. And your heart stops as you feel the aforementioned tears moving down your face like a torrential downpour—things in existence you hadn't realized were there. 'Please don't cry.'

_'Levi, I can't—'_

'Smile, for me. _Please, Eren.'_

And for that you think of the times when you'd wake up in the early morning of the days off—sun streaming in through the windows, and waking to find his eyes locked on you—calm. And he'd swear, over and over—like a prayer between himself and the walls—that you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, with your sleepy eyes glassed over from fatigue, and mussed hair that was soft on his long, calloused fingers as they brushed across your scalp. 

You think of the first time he'd _made love to you,_ and you can say for certain that's what he'd done now—after the uncounted amount of 'I love you's,' that had been passed between the two of you. You think of the way he drank in your reactions—capturing every minute noise with his lips. And your name had become his prayer. 

You think of the first time he'd said _it_ to you—expedition the next day, your browned hands shaking as they ran through inky fringe. The breathy tone, the voice full of conviction as he looked at you with molten metal in his eyes. _'I love you, Eren. More than I'd like to admit.'_

You think of _gasping, moaning_ his name the time he'd told you that he could no longer wait—that he _needed you_. You'd been lowered into the grass, and for once you didn't mind the excessive amount of light burning into your eyes. His face of concentration—highlighted by the sun behind him—searing the image into your mind _as he pushed into you, so slowly,_ your arms wrapping around his neck— _pushing, digging_ into the skin of his back, legs around his slim waist. 

You think of this moment—right now—his bloodstained thumb moving to brush along your bottom lip, and suddenly you wish for him to paint your entire being. To make you into a work of art, completed by that single motion— _for him to drag you into a shared oblivion._

You can't help but to smile at the thought. 

He coughs. 

'S-see. That's the Eren I know. The smile.'

And his lips turn up so minutely at the corners, and he looks so broken and you _want to tell him to shut up and be quiet so he can breathe—_

But you don't. 

And you can't help the small laugh that bubbles up within you like blistering insanity, as your hand comes up to cup his cheek—his head leaning into your touch, dark mud staining your knees like the abscess in your heart.

'I love you so much, Levi.'

_'I love you too, Eren.'_

'I love you more than anything. I do.' You don't pay any mind to the rain pelting against your cheeks. 

_'I love you too, kid. You know that.'_

You lean forward, and the taste of rust hits you full force—warm lips meeting his, _hoping, praying_ that it could last forever. That this will be your eternity. Your thumb moving across his cheekbone as he shudders beneath your hands—breaking the kiss to gasp for air. 

The air that he's gasping for— _choking on—_

_It's too much._

'We're gonna—' your lungs constrict, heart beating like a metronome with no pace. You're lost in a song with no notes—with no end. 'We're going to be happy.' 

His laugh is dry. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth. 

But his red-tinted smile is genuine. 

_'Damn right we are.'_

You press your lips to his forehead, praying for this to be a dream— _a terrible fucking nightmare that you'll come out of_ —inhaling the smell of copper and faded musk. 

Your words come out, muffled against his sweat covered skin. 

'We're going to get that cabin in the woods and live a happy life and—'

His index finger presses gently to your lips. And you listen as the formation moves forward—horse's hooves lost in the background.

_'Shut up.'_

And the rain is _still fucking there_ , leaking from pools of green. 

You can't seem to find it within yourself to care. 

He doesn't see you as weak.

'Levi. I can't, I'm so worried I—'

 _'Just a scratch is all.'_ And he laughs, a small river tinted by the red evening flowing from the crack of his lips. 

You press a light kiss to his temple, before speaking softly—your voice more even than you'd expect. 

'Trying to play tough guy?'

 _'What do you mean trying, kid?_

'Always trying to spare others.'

_'Not others. Just you._

Your lips brush against his—arms slackening from their position around your shoulders. You cup his cheek once-more—thumb rubbing absentminded circles into the stained skin there.

_This moment._

'I'm strong, Levi. You don't have to protect me anymore.'

 _'A little rebellious spitfire, huh?'_

His voice is quiet. He is weak. 

'That's probably why you fell in love with me, right? Why I love you—'

You're desperate now. Clawing at time that doesn't exist. It's impossible. 

_'Yeah, you're right. Thank you, Eren.'_

And he smiles as molten metal cools. 

'Thank you,' you whisper. 'I love you.'

It's a broken noise, a breathy sentiment that no one can hear—lost in a cacophony. 

* * *

_And he'd responded, nine out of ten times._

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, idk if I like this. But thanks for reading maaan.


End file.
